A Man Out Of Time
by Lazarus76
Summary: Arthur is a hotshot young detective. But then he falls foul of a vicious drugs dealer. And in doing so, he finds himself suddenly wondering - is this a dream? Inspired by Life On Mars, the UK series. Arthur/Ariadne
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**:** Inception does not belong to me. So, I've been feeling pretty down about fanfic lately. Not about you lovely people, who give me feedback, encouragement, and honesty - but about the fact that everything I write seems to be angsty or depressing. And its making me a bit angsty. So, time for a change. Life on Mars, the UK version, inspired this. Check it out. **

The piercing shrill of his iPhone woke him. Shifting in the bed, Arthur groped unsteadily for the slim black toy. Its screen flashed impatiently as he picked it up, sliding the screen to answer. Pushing his hair out of his eyes, he tried to focus. "Hello?" he croaked.

"Art?"

He sighed, inwardly. Trent. His partner. Who as on duty. And the fact he was ringing him meant only one thing.

"Yeah?" He squinted at the clock, his sleep rapidly dissipating. "What is it?"

"He's moving, Arthur." Trent's voice was seeping through the device. "He's moving."

Arthur sat up, bolt upright, wide awake. "He? Aaron Fischer?" His voice was shaking.

"Very same. Guess Daddy's out of town."

"Where are you?"

"I'm right outside."

Arthur bit back an angry retort. "Right. I'm coming down. Give me five."

He pushed back the covers, and began to search for his clothes. Plain black pants, and plain shirt, and over it, body armour. He carefully fastened it, swallowing as he reached for his gun. Arthur Ogilvie was a rising star in the Detective department at the PD, and this promise of nailing one of the city's worst drug barons was too good an opportunity to miss.

It had taken hours, weeks, of painstaking work. Aaron Fischer, cocooned by money and and a father who had several of the Police's top names in his pocket, had eluded them at every turn. It had made Arthur furious, how this man - who at the age of 25 still lived as a teenaged spoilt brat - had managed to accrue money through drug dealing. Hurting other young people.

He bit his lip. He needed to take this one down. He had spent hours researching, combing through the mark's movements - he was not going to let it slip away. He fastened his holster, hurried to the bathroom, splashed water on his face and began to head for the stairs, his keys and phone jammed into his pocket.

As he slammed the door of his brownstone, he took a deep breath. Trent was sitting patiently, waiting for him. He was a year younger than Arthur, with an easy going, slightly placid air. But at that present moment - he simply looked tired. Arthur opened the door, sliding his lean frame in. Trent was a new father, and Arthur suspected the man's increasing reluctance to take on raids and stake outs was due to his wife's anxiety. He ran his hand over his face. His own relationship had ended recently, his girlfriend deciding she could not stand any more nights alone, or staying up waiting. Arthur didn't blame her. Working for 24 hours straight some days was not worth waiting for.

"Hey." Trent glanced at Arthur as he shifted gears, and they glided off. "You ok?"

"Yes," Arthur said, crisply. "You?"

"Tired." Trent chuckled. "The little one woke up early - wanted feeding." He shook his head. "Alicia thinks I'm going to go back to night duty."

Arthur fell silent. Alicia and Trent were his closest friends - his only friends. In fact, before the baby had been born, Alicia had insisted on him staying at their house at least two nights a week - "so you can eat and get some rest," she had scolded. "Look at you. Nothing of you!"

He smiled. They were kind, generous people. He leaned back, and let Trent talk.

"Fischer Senior is out of town. At a party. Saito's - some wealthy magnate." Trent kept his eyes on the road. "I guess Aaron decided it was too good an opportunity to miss."

"Where is he?"

"College campus. Blake's there, undercover."

Arthur gritted his teeth. The impetuous, hot headed John Blake was their newest recruit - and biggest liability. "Great."

"Give him a chance, Art."

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "A chance? Listen- Blake nearly got himself killed two weeks ago. That suspected terrorist package. Went a little too close." He shook his head. "He's such a -"

"I know, I know. He's a kid."

"He's 27!" Arthur exploded. "He's old enough to know better!"

"Look, Art," Trent said, shortly. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"Fine," he mumbled. He sighed. As the car drove onto the campus, he felt himself stiffen. "So, where is he, frat house?"

"Oh, yes."

The car parked, and the two men got out - Arthur moving more lightly than Trent's more heavily built frame. As they approached the Alpha Kappa House, Arthur's hand moved instinctively to his gun. They stood outside, and Trent nodded.

"Four, three, two, one!"

On cue, the door crashed open, both men entering. "Police!" Arthur barked. "Stay back!"

Trent, his gun pointed outright, was already combing through the room. Arthur flashed a glance round - dazed looking fraternity brothers stared at him, drunkenly; several girls, in various states of undress, were beginning to whimper. He frowned, and raised his voice.

"Aaron Fischer! I know you're here!"

Trent stared at him, shocked. Arthur ignored the other man, and began to move forward. Suddenly, he heard a coughing noise.

At the first landing of the stairwell, a pale, thin young man was standing with a gun. A gun pointing at the head of another young man, whose dark brown eyes held a look of panic.

Arthur swallowed. Blake.

"Well, Detective Ogilvie. Nice to see you." Aaron's voice was casual. "Shame you had to send your grunt out here first. He's not very good at undercover. Gives himself away."

Arthur kept the gun trained on him. "Back up will be here in two minutes. Give it up."

"No." Aaron smiled smugly. "Because you're not going to run the risk of shooting me. Because I'll just move this guy here in front as a human shield."

Arthur lowered the gun, and fired.

Blake let out a scream of pain, as the bullet hit his thigh. Shocked, Aaron let go, and turned to run. Arthur followed him, taking the stairs two at a time. As they climbed, he realised Aaron was heading to the roof.

As he walked out onto the flat roof, he noticed Aaron was already there. Holding a gun.

"Well, I guess this is how it ends. You and me." Aaron was smiling again. "But don't worry. I can pay for the plastic surgery after you make a mess of my face."

"Oh, I don't doubt it," Arthur said, trying to stay calm, despite his racing heartbeat. "But you-"

"Look, a guy has to get ahead in life."

"By selling and dealing." Arthur curled his lip.

"That's right. Sayonara, Ogilvie!"

Aaron raised his gun. Suddenly, he heard a shout. "Ogilvie, don't! I'll-"

Suddenly, a gun went off. Arthur, shocked, saw the bullet as it sped towards him. Then...

* * *

Darkness.

* * *

Arthur blinked. He was sitting on a bench. Outside a building. He shook his head.

How did he get there?

He began to get up, and looked down at himself, his jaw opening in surprise.

He was wearing blue jeans - crisp blue denim. Coupled with a casual striped shirt, slightly open at the neck, and a dark red leather jacket. He ran his hand over his hair.

It was a dream, he decided. He scratched his forehead. He had been asleep - Trent had rung. He hadn't got out of bed, just given the okay to Trent, and then fallen asleep again. He was in a dream, and he would wake up.

He turned round, wondering where he was.

Suddenly, he noticed the building. It was the Police Headquarters.

Arthur's eyebrows rose again. Clearly, his job was taking over his life. He smiled. This was the most vivid dream he had ever had. Everything looked clean, bright, and almost new. Whistling, he began to walk up the stone steps.

He pushed open the swing doors, and headed for the front desk. A young officer, lank black hair pushed behind his ears, was scribbling in a ledger. Arthur coughed politely.

The man looked up. NASH, it stated clearly, above his breast pocket. "Can I help you?"

Arthur frowned. "I hope so. Where do I go?"

"Who are you?"

"I'm-"

Suddenly, Arthur heard a commotion. A shout, followed by a crash. He went into the main room. A blonde haired man was trying to restrain another, more heavy individual. Arthur frowned, then leapt forward.

"Enough!" he shouted, delivering a swift chop to the neck. The suspect groaned, closing his eyes. Arthur looked at the other man, who nodded. "Thank you."

Arthur frowned. "Its ok." He swallowed. "I-"

"What is it?" the blonde asked, courteously.

"I'm wondering- what's going on?" Arthur was biting his lip. This dream was far more vivid than any he had previously experienced.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, this-" Arthur frowned. He was suddenly noticing a lack of computers, the drab interior. "I mean-"

"Look, sorry, I'm awaiting a transfer detective." The blonde said, hurriedly. "Arthur Ogilvie."

Arthur felt a sense of shock. "That's me."

"Really? Good." The man smiled. "Dom Cobb. Lieutenant."

They shook hands. In a daze, Arthur followed the other man, up a staircase. He reached down - his pockets were flat.. No iPhone. His eyes widening in shock, he followed Cobb into another room.

Another man sat there, smoking. And also, he noticed, a young woman, dressed in the simple uniform of a beat cop. He looked round. There were no computers, no cell phones, nothing. Shocked, he found his voice.

"I-"

"Yes?" Cobb said, looking at him.

"What year is this?!"

**All reviews appreciated, thank you!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer**:** Inception does not belong to me. A little short, but necessary. **

"What year is this?!" Arthur demanded. The others in the room exchanged glances, their faces showing various degrees of puzzlement. Eventually, Cobb spoke.

"Its 1978." He looked at Arthur, and swallowed. "You do know that, right?"

Arthur shook his head. "It can't be." He walked over, gripping the back of a chair. "I was - I was in 2013! How can it be 1978?! I haven't even been born! This can't be true!"

"Well, it is." Eames spoke, a slight smirk on his face. "Look at the calendar."

Arthur turned his head towards the desk. A small calendar was sitting on the desk. His heart thudding, he peered down. "July 23rd...1978." He jerked his head up. "This isn't possible."

"I think you'll find it is." Eames' nonchalant voice cut through the room. "Years tend to follow one another."

Arthur was beginning to pace, agitated. "No, this isn't possible - it can't be." He began to reach for his wallet, his heart lifting as he found the familiar bulge at the back of his trousers. "I'll show you my driving license. I haven't even been born yet!"

Cobb looked surprised as Arthur flipped open his wallet. "There," he said, his heart pounding, "what does it say?"

"May 18th, 1946."

"What?" Arthur looked at it, shocked. "No, that's not possible. I was born in 1981! Four years after this year! This can't be true!"

"Listen," Cobb said, kindly. "Are you sure you're all right? You did request this transfer."

"What?"

"Transfer. I wanted a good detective, and you wanted a new challenge, so-"

"But, this is a dream." Arthur turned and faced them. "It has to be. None of you are actually real. You're just in my subconscious. Just imaginary people."

Ariadne looked worried. Eames sighed and shook his head. Cobb frowned. "Arthur- I can assure you that this is real."

"But it-" He swallowed, and looked round. "It's not. I have a life, in 2013." He was beginning to pace, agitated.

"Just calm down," Cobb said, finally. "Please."

Arthur blinked, and suddenly noticed the gun. It was lying there, on the desk. Without hesitating, he picked it up, and put it near his mouth.

"If this is a dream," he said, slowly, "I can just kill myself, and I'll wake up."

Reviews** are always welcome and appreciated, thank you!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer**:** Inception does not belong to me. **

"Arthur." Cobb spoke, calmly. "Put the gun down."

Arthur, his hand shaking slightly, kept his grip on the gun. Cobb moved forward. "Please-"

"I need to do this," Arthur said, quietly. "I need to kill myself, and wake up!"

"Oh, and suppose you don't?" Eames' voice cut through the tension. "What if you simply end up collapsing, blood pouring out of your skull? Nothing more than a gibbering vegetable, or dead?"

Arthur swallowed. The barrel of the gun was touching his lip - he could taste the sharp tang of metal. His finger slid towards the trigger.

"Arthur!" Aridane spoke, suddenly. "Arthur, its loaded! If you do this-"

He closed his eyes. Suddenly, he blinked.

_"Hey, Art? Hear me? Stay with me, OK?"_

He pulled the gun from his mouth. "They found me," he said, slowly. Calmly, he began to lower the gun, not meeting the eyes of the astonished onlookers.

"Who have?"

"My team...I was shot." Arthur swallowed, running his hands over his hair. "I was at a drugs bust, and one of the junior officers...got taken hostage. I went upstairs to help him, they lowered the gun, they fired at me-"

Eames was shaking his head. "You sound like a complete-"

"Look, I'm not from this time!" Arthur exploded. "I come from 2013! I have a life there! I need to go back, my team have found me, and in a second, I will close my eyes, and wake up!"

Eames was shaking his head. "Nuts. Absolutely nuts."

"Arthur." Ariadne spoke. "Arthur, you are awake. You're alive. There's nowhere for you to go."

"You requested to come here," Cobb broke in. "Please, trust me on that one."

Arthur rubbed his forehead. "So-"

His mind was whirling. Was it a dream? "I've been shot," he said, calmly. "My brain is trying to protect me by making me think I'm alive. I'm probably in a coma, possibly I'm already-"

He sank down. "-Dead."

The thought gripped his heart like an ice cold hand. What if the bullet had pierced through his skull, smashing his most vital organ, causing his body to shut down immediately? What if medics and colleagues were crowding round him, desperately trying to re-start his heart, his brain? What if he was already lying in the morgue?

"I could be dead." He looked at them. "I could be-"

Suddenly, he felt a swift, hard punch to the face. Gasping in shock, he looked up. Eames was standing over him, looking slightly guilty. Cobb was raising his eyebrows.

"Sorry," Eames said, offhandedly. "But my fist just made contact with your face, and did not go through it - so, no, you're not a ghost, you're actually real, and I'm real. Now, can we actually get on and do some work?" He cocked his head.

Arthur's face flamed; reaching up, he felt his face. A large bruise was beginning to develop on his cheek.

"Eames." Cobb shook his head. He turned to Arthur. "Detective Eames is here from the Met, in London. He's assisting us with a crime that spreads to Great Britain. Officer Henderson is newly assigned to this department."

Arthur looked at her. "I see."

"I know, its odd." Eames shrugged. "Having a woman doing detecting. In the Met, the WPCs make the tea."

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "Oh, really? Where I come from, a woman runs my department." He shook his head. Captain Kyle was professional, astute, and brave - she had been injured in the line of duty, yet refused to take a desk job.

"Bloody hell." Eames smirked. "Look out Ariadne, he'll be taking orders from you next!"

"She's a detective," Arthur snapped, suddenly angry.

"Indeed she is. So she can detect me a nice cup of tea." Eames waved his hand dismissively.

Arthur glared. Cobb spoke to break the atmosphere.

"Look. Please. Your first day." He swallowed. "We need to find a man, pull him in for questioning. Eames, Ariadne, you and Arthur need to go to this address -" he held up a piece of paper - "and arrest him."

"What for?"

"Its believed he is running a money laundering ring." Cobb looked at Arthur. "So, please don't say you've got nothing to do."

Arthur nodded. "I see." He took the piece of paper, and gasped.

"What now?" Eames spoke with irritation.

Arthur looked at the name. "Robert Fischer..." he murmured, then folded the paper. "All right. Let's go!"

Reviews** are always welcome and appreciated, thank you!**


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer:** Inception does not belong to me. **

"So you know this Robert Fischer?" Eames was sitting in the back seat, next to Ariadne. Arthur and Cobb were in the front.

"Yes, I know him." Arthur scowled. "Trust me, I- OW!"

He flinched. A deep, sharp pain had suddenly erupted in his chest. Frowning, he rubbed it, wondering where it had come from. Cobb quickly glanced at him. "You all right?"

"Fine," Arthur said, shortly, trying hard not to wince. The pain had been sudden, and intense. As though he'd been pricked with something sharp. He bit his lip. If he were - his actual body - was lying in a hospital bed - was it possible that someone, somewhere, was trying to hurt him?

He shook his head, and rested it on his hand. Sighing deeply, he stared at the road.

"So how do you know Fischer?" Cobb as speaking. Arthur swallowed, and, tried to compose himself.

"I, uh, he's well known in the criminal underground."

"Really?" Eames raised his eyebrows, almost amused. "Funny that. He's apparently a respected businessman."

"What? Fischer?" Arthur almost choked. The Fischer he knew used his energy company as a front for a money laundering ring. But, he thought, angrily, when you have Commissioner Gordon in your pocket...he shook his head.

"Yes," Cobb chipped in. "He works for his father."

"Really? Nice to know they keep it in the family." Arthur fell silent as the car swerved down the roads, finally bringing them to the front of an impressive looking office building. He glanced up. "FISCHER MORROW" was emblazoned on the front.

Opening the door, Cobb was out first, followed by Arthur. As Eames and Ariadne walked out to the front, Arthur winced again. A sharp, jabbing pain had again stabbed through his chest.

_"Does it hurt?"_

He blinked, shocked. "Did you say something?" he demanded of Eames.

"Um, no?" Eames looked puzzled. "Should I have done?"

"I-" Arthur stopped, and cleared his throat. "I just thought you did."

"Well, I didn't." Eames looked slightly affronted, and Arthur realised he was in danger of causing more tension among the group. Ariadne looked slightly surprised.

"OK, sorry," Arthur mumbled. Turning, he followed Cobb into the building.

The reception for Fischer Morrow was decorated in muted tones of sand. Arthur shuddered - it was a world away from the sleek monochrome lines of the buildings he was used to. As they went up to reception, the young woman behind the desk frowned.

"May I help you?"

"Good morning. May we speak to Mr Fischer please?" Cobb asked, politely.

She shook her head. "Mr Maurice Fischer is in an all day meeting-"

"No, sorry," Cobb interrupted, "I mean Mr Robert Fischer."

"Oh!" She blinked, looking surprised. "Well, certainly, I think he's in his office." She pressed a buzzer on the intercom, and lifted a receiver. After speaking a few words, she replaced it, and nodded.

"Please go upstairs. Second floor, first office to the left."

They walked towards the elevators. Suddenly, Arthur felt another, searing pain.

_"Do you feel that, Ogilvie? Does it hurt? I warned you...if you tried to hurt or arrest my son. And you're trapped in the bed, and I'm here!"_

Arthur gulped, and grabbed the side of the elevator. "He's doing this," he choked. Cobb looked at him. "What?"

"Its Fischer! He's-"

Suddenly, the doors slid open. Silenced, and aware that the others were staring at him, curiously, Arthur left the elevator.

**I love reviews, if you could leave one it would be great, thank you! Apologies for the shortness of this chapter. And this its been a month!**


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